Meet Millie and David (Tag) in the newest
stand alone by Amy Harmon
"She said I was like a song. Her favorite
song."
NOW AVAILABLE!
Blurb
She said I was like a song. Her favorite
song. A song isn’t something you can see. It’s something you feel, something
you move to, something that disappears after the last note is played.
I won my
first fight when I was eleven years old, and I’ve been throwing punches ever
since. Fighting is the purest, truest, most elemental thing there is. Some
people describe heaven as a sea of unending white. Where choirs sing and loved
ones await. But for me, heaven was something else. It sounded like the bell at
the beginning of a round, it tasted like adrenaline, it burned like sweat in my
eyes and fire in my belly. It looked like the blur of screaming crowds and an
opponent who wanted my blood.
For me,
heaven was the octagon.
Until I
met Millie, and heaven became something different. I became something
different. I knew I loved her when I watched her stand perfectly still in the
middle of a crowded room, people swarming, buzzing, slipping around her, her
straight dancer’s posture unyielding, her chin high, her hands loose at her
sides. No one seemed to see her at all, except for the few who squeezed past
her, tossing exasperated looks at her unsmiling face. When they realized she
wasn’t normal, they hurried away. Why was it that no one saw her, yet she was
the first thing I saw?
If heaven
was the octagon, then she was my angel at the center of it all, the girl with the
power to take me down and lift me up again. The girl I wanted to fight for, the
girl I wanted to claim. The girl who taught me that sometimes the biggest
heroes go unsung and the most important battles are the ones we don’t think we
can win.
**This is David ‘Tag’ Taggert's book, a
supporting character introduced in The
Law of Moses. This is a stand-alone story.
Excerpts (Use as
many or as few as you like)
Excerpt #1
Amelie
and Henry didn’t come by the gym the next day. On Saturday, I thought I saw
them once, beyond the wall of windows along the front of the gym, but when I
looked again they were gone. I shrugged, deciding Henry must not have been as
excited by the idea as Amelie thought he would be. A few minutes later I looked
up to see them hovering near the speed bags, Amelie holding firmly to Henry’s
arm, Henry looking as if he was about to bolt and drag his poor sister with
him. They were garnering some strange looks—Henry with his crazy bedhead, his
darting glances, and jittery hands and Amelie because she stood so still and
looked so out of place in a gym filled with muscles and men.
I
called a quick halt to my bout, escaping Axel, who was trying to pummel me into
next week, and slid between the ropes that cordoned off one of the octagons.
“Amelie!
Henry!” I called, noting how Amelie’s face was immediately wreathed in a
relieved smile, a smile so wide it spread to her eyes, giving the illusion of
sparkle and life. But Henry started backing up, pulling his sister with him.
“Yo,
Henry. Hold up, man.” I stopped several feet from them and lowered my voice.
“Did you know that Jack Dempsey versus Jess Willard was the very first fight to
be broadcast over the radio?”
Henry
stopped moving and his hands stilled.
“Do
you know what year that was, Henry?”
“1919,”
Henry said in a whisper. “The first televised fight was in 1931. Benny Leonard
vs. Mickey Walker.”
“I
didn’t know that.” Actually, I had only known about the Dempsey, Willard fight
because I’d seen a biography on Dempsey on Netflix the night before. God bless
Netflix. The mention of the radio had made me think of Henry and the sportscast
blaring from his bedroom. “You wanna tell me more?”
“David
‘Tag’ Taggert, light heavyweight contender with a professional record of
eighteen wins, two losses, ten knock outs.”
“You
checked up on me, huh?”
Henry’s
mouth twitched, and he looked away shyly.
“You
did! What else did you find out? That all the ladies love me, that I’m the best
looking fighter, pound for pound, in the universe?”
Henry
looked confused for a second, and I realized he was searching his mind for that
stat. I laughed. “Just kidding, buddy.”
“Six-foot
three, 215 pounds, most often compared to Forrest Griffin and Michael Bisping?”
Henry’s voice rose on the end, clearly seeking approval.
“I’m
more charming than Bisping, and I have better ears than Forrest. But they could
both probably kick my ass.”
“He
said ass, Amelie!” Henry whispered, half shocked.
“Yes
he did, Henry. It’s okay. That’s how fighters talk,” Amelie soothed.
“Can
I say ass?” Henry whispered again, curiously.
“You
can,” I cut in, “after you learn how to fight.”
Excerpt #2
Millie
opened the door to greet me, a smile on her lips, my name on her tongue, but I
didn’t wait for her to release it. I wanted her to keep it, savor it, and never
let it go. I needed my name to stay inside her so that I wouldn’t float away
like a word that’s already been spoken. So I pressed my lips to hers and swung
her up in my arms like a man in a movie, and my name became a cry that only I
heard.
I
felt slightly crazed, and my kiss was frantic as I barreled up the stairs with
Millie in my arms. My legs didn’t shake and my mind was clear, as if in its
health my body was rebelling too. I wanted to roar and hit my chest. I wanted
to shake my fists at the heavens, but more than anything I wanted Millie. I
didn’t want to waste another second with Millie.
Then
we were in her room, the white comforter pristine and smooth, like Millie’s
skin in the moonlight, and I laid her across it, falling down beside her. I was anxious. Needy. I wanted the safety of
her skin, the absolution of her flesh, and the promise that came with it. I
wanted to take. I wanted to cement myself in her memory and leave my mark. I
needed that. I needed her. She matched my fervor like she understood. She
didn’t understand. She couldn’t. But she didn’t slow me down or beg me for
reassurance.
My
hands were in her hair and tracing her eyes, fingering her mouth, pausing in
the hollow of her throat. I wanted to touch every single part of her. But even
as I lost myself in the silk of her skin and the sway of her movements against
me, I felt the horror rise up inside of me and shimmer beneath my skin. It
wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t be enough, and I knew it, even as I closed my
eyes and tried to make it be enough. I couldn’t breathe and my heart raced, and
for a moment I thought I would tell her everything.
She
must have mistaken my fear for hesitation, the cessation of my breath for
something else, because she cradled my face in her hands and pressed her
forehead to mine. And then she whispered my name.
“David, David, David.” It sounded like a song
when she said it. And she kissed my lips softly.
“David,
David, David.” She chanted my name, like she couldn’t believe it was true, like
she liked the way it felt in her mouth.
“I
love the way you call me David,” I said, and remembered the line from my silly
song, the line that had no rhyme.
“I
love that you are mine,” she breathed, and the fear left me for a time. It
tiptoed away and love took its place, love and belonging and time that can’t be
stolen.
**ADDITIONAL TEASERS ATTACHED TO EMAIL**
Buy The Song of David
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Harmon
Amy Harmon
is a USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author. Amy knew at an early age
that writing was something she wanted to do, and she divided her time between
writing songs and stories as she grew. Having grown up in the middle of wheat
fields without a television, with only her books and her siblings to entertain
her, she developed a strong sense of what made a good story. Her books are now
being published in several countries, truly a dream come true for a little
country girl from Levan, Utah.
Amy Harmon
has written seven novels - the USA Today Bestsellers, Making Faces and Running
Barefoot, as well as Slow Dance in Purgatory, Prom Night in Purgatory, Infinity
+ One and the New York Times Bestseller, A Different Blue. Her newest release,
The Law of Moses, is now available. For updates on upcoming book releases,
author posts and more, join Amy at www.authoramyharmon.com
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